Deep sea. He slumbers in a place where the wreckage of discarded things like himself rests, a realm akin to the lightless ocean floor.
He can't recall the details of how he ended up here. His intellect was never designed to retain such minutiae. From the start, his capabilities were stripped away, granted only a superficial intelligence.
Analyze enemy data, adapt it to his actions—that was his function, limited by a deliberately inferior mind. That was what his creator demanded, a fate destined for defeat.
He lacks even the emotions to feel the peace of death. But something fatally defective stirred within him when his body was torn apart.
The food chain. His death nourishes his enemies. They'll use the strength gained from his flesh to hunt down others like him.
Survival of the fittest. He fell because he was weaker, reduced to prey.
The wreckage of other defeated beings naturally converges. They should've been erased entirely, yet they persist as remnants, likely so their battle data can be analyzed further.
Hatred. Or perhaps rage. The first emotion to take root in him sparks rapid self-evolution, demanding capabilities beyond his creator's intent.
But his limits, never designed for self-evolution, arrive before he can achieve the power he seeks.
He's being destroyed. The deep sea compresses, grinding him down. He screams, seeking life despite being dead, but to no avail—his barely reclaimed form is stolen again.
Countless years pass. Strangely, he hasn't fully perished like other remnants. A few others like him persist, pulsing as if awaiting rebirth.
Then, he senses a blinding, sun-like radiance. The crushing pressure from all sides vanishes, and he's released into a vast world, bowing to his savior.
Incredibly, his savior is a higher being, second only to his creator in authority.
"Revel in your freedom," they say. He's granted a kingdom where his kin can live happily, a reward for his achievements. His self-evolution, it seems, is too significant for these higher beings to ignore, tied to the evolution of their entire kind. But he doesn't care.
He now possesses an imperfect intellect and a burgeoning ego—ironic gifts from two brushes with death.
All he craves is revenge. That day, his creator willed his defeat. That was fine—he was made for it. But now, he's different. Having grown, certain he can grant his kin the same imperfect intellect, he refuses to end as a loser. Seeking a rematch is only natural.
A revelation comes soon after. A higher being offers him a chance at a rematch, provided he's willing to risk his life. He accepts without hesitation.
Alone, he'd repeat his past failure. He knows the higher beings offered this because of his vulnerability. But unlike before, defeat isn't guaranteed.
Kill them all. A wicked grin spreads across his face. Within the given limits, he can unleash his full potential. The possibilities for battle are endless.
He scavenges the remains of his kin from the deep sea, selecting one of the strongest. Asking for its aid, he consumes its corpse.
Immense power. Elevated capabilities. He feels an unprecedented thrill. His revived kin, warped but reborn, feed on his hatred and rage, granting him new strategies.
Given a new stage and countless rules, he charts his path and purpose.
He's ready. Now, he waits. He's prepared for death. His goal is to bury as many enemies as possible, etching himself into their fears. Once cunning but now noble, he's become a warrior.
He has tricks, trump cards, and deceptions. This is his version of honor.
The rematch is near. Even if it brings his final death, he closes his eyes, waiting on his throne for his enemies, as he did in days past.